0 comments

General

Patient 32

By O’Leary, Thomas J




Waking up from a lack of dreams

The third eye sleeps

The first two see.


Walls of white with bedding the same.

Rusted cot,

A rusted frame.


Legs pour over

Feet touch the ground.

Cold concrete

Greets without a sound.


Standing up he feels the rush

Of blood, of thoughts

From dust to dust.


He can not remember why he’s here.

He begins to summarize all that’s near


Ten foot wide

Ten foot long 

Contains a bed

Contains a bulb, humming bleakly

Song of death?

It wont be long fore

Its final breath.

A single door

Without a latch.

First one in

Is the last one left.

No toilet, no sink, not even a pillow

No air duct, no breeze, not even a window.


He takes three steps and he approaches the door

Timidly.

Suddenly

He thinks he’s done this before.


Gazing and lost

His mind struggles to find

The memory, the thought, the ability to

Rewind.


His hands reach out

Exploring at first

Finding nothing of note 

He notes with a curse.

‘What the hell is happening?’

the tranquility is gone

panic joins in

‘this is totally wrong’.

His hands start pounding

His voice gaining steam

‘LET ME OUT OF HERE!’

his fists beget to a scream.


Over and over

Pound and pound.

Under and under

Round and round.


Finally, his fists 

Drop back to his sides

Tears of frustration

An occasion to cry.


He slumps back on his cot

Springs squeal in delight.

His hands pass through his hair

‘I’m losing my mind’.


Nothing happens at first, minutes drip by

Hours perhaps, its hard to tell time.


Suddenly without thinking he goes to the door

But instead of just banging he begins to tap out a score.

A melody really

And something quite silly

An old cartoon

From when William was just Billy

He and his brother

Back when they would sit down and laugh

Their parents joining in

Just to see their kids have

Such an innocent moment

An innocent time

Before all the madness

And before all the lies

And before life’s ambitions led you down so very deep

That you forgot what it felt to ever feel

Weak.


The tapping ends.

The memory dies.

The door opens up

To no one’s surprise.

He steps quite calmly

Expects nothing at all

He is not disappointed

As he steps in the hall.


More bulbs of the same kin

Every five or so feet,

The same paint job and the same concrete.


One glance to the left and one glance to the right.

A mirror image.

They’re exactly alike.


What to do now

He stops and he thinks.

Days go by.

The third eye blinks.


‘Rock, paper, scissors’,

that’s how it was always determined

so he used both hands 

that were already aware of their purpose.


His left hand curls a fist

his right just lay flat

Paper beats rock

His feet begin to un-plant.

The first step feels right, the second feels better

He knew the direction why did he feel so off kilter?


What seemed like miles

And definitely was

Gave no change in scenery

Just the whiteness of all.


Finally, without warning the hall ends with a 

Door.

This time with a handle, he approaches the

Shore.

He opens it slowly

not because he’s surprised

He opens it slowly

Because he knows what’s inside.


‘HI JOHN!!!’, they scream

every voice in tandem,

his mother his father his brothers

his wife his grandsons,

his daughters his uncles his aunts his friends

the kids that grew up, 

those in his platoon that were dead.

His classmates his employees every animal he once owned

Every childhood chum, every colleague whose grown.

Thousands upon thousands

Of people he knew from the past

The ones that were blips

And the ones that would last.

Their faces delighted

His face was the same

The wave went crashing

And out poured all their names

Alyssa and Michael, William and Sam

Adi and Bradley, Terri and Ted

Drowning in thought

Submerged in the past

He swims through the crowd

Bobbing smiles and laughs.

High fives and hand shakes

Kisses and hugs

He feels so alive 

He greets every one.



His feet continue moving as if propelled on their

Own.

He knows he can’t stay here he has to get

Home.


With a final good-bye 

He breaks through to the end

Their stands the last door

Painted the deepest of reds.

With a glance to the rear

As if gathering strength

He pulls in a breath

Looks forward

Opens the door

And finally

Finally

he takes

.

.

.

control



From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU

Dated August 3rd, 1993

 

Patient 32 exhibited a brief moment of what I would call ‘clarity’ after 472 days of near total atrophy in both the mind and body. Occasionally nurses would report the patient mumbling incoherently at times but almost immediately returning to a complete state of vegetation. Yet today, something very odd occurred.

                  As I was checking the patient’s vitals (well, checking to make sure the staff was checking the patient’s vitals) the patient suddenly drew in a very audible breath, opened both eyes, stared directly into my own and said quite clearly and with no hesitation

                  ‘I know what’s going on. I know what’s happening to me. I’m trying my best. Tell everyone that I love them’.

                  Upon saying these words, the patient went directly back into his near complete state of unresponsiveness. I’m not sure what to exactly make of this. I have instructed the staff to make more periodic rounds into the patient’s quarters to see if anything progresses. 

                  This is mere speculation and words in which I wouldn’t use around my fellow colleagues but the way he stared into my eyes and the way he spoke led me to believe that he was indeed in full control of all his faculties at their very moment, almost as if he was trapped for the last 400 or so days and finally found a way out, albeit brief. Too brief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU

Dated August 4th, 1993

No change in Patient 32

 

From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU

Dated August 5th, 1993

No change in Patient 32

 

From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU

Dated August 15th, 1993

No change in Patient 32.

 

From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU

Dated September 2nd, 1993

                  No change in Patient 32.

 

From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU

Dated November 22nd, 1993

No change in Patient 32.

 

From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU

Dated January 5th, 1994

No change in Patient 32.

 

From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU

Dated July 27th, 1994

                  No change in Patient 32.

 

From the diary of Doctor Auguste Deter, Frederick Memorial Hospital ICU

Dated February 14th, 1995

                  No change in Patient 32.

 

 

 

 

Waking up from a lack of dreams

The third eye sleeps

The first two see.

 

August 14, 2019 18:01

You must sign up or log in to submit a comment.

0 comments

Reedsy | Default — Editors with Marker | 2024-05

Bring your publishing dreams to life

The world's best editors, designers, and marketers are on Reedsy. Come meet them.